Chapter 4
What had she done?
Lily wore an expression of deepest adoration, her face alight. "You're like a dream," she said, her voice hushed. "Beautiful. Fey."
Why had she given her the remainder of the potion? It would wear off within a few days—a week at most, and she didn't have enough time to brew more. Much could happen within a week. Life as she knew it could be upended...
The last month and a half had passed indescribably. For the first time in her memory, Merope felt someone was her ally and friend. Despite this, Lily's unhappiness weighed on her. What if Lily left her, to return to the people she so clearly missed? Merope couldn't put into words what anxiety this invoked; the prospect of Lily's departure left her sick and shivering and heartbroken. (Like what she felt when contemplating losing Tom, but that couldn't be right''')
At the end of the week, Lily would leave her. For this week, however, Lily would be happy, no longer pining for her loved ones.
"Are you okay?" Lily asked, gently taking Merope's hand. "You're really tense, and your face is scrunched up."
"I'm fine," Merope assured her. "You?"
"Never better." Lily's smile was breath-taking. She buried a hand in the hair at Merope's nape, drawing her close. "Though there is one thing that could improve my day." And Lily kissed her, long and hard. At first, Merope didn't respond. Oh, how she wanted this, but did Lily? Without the potion, would Lily kiss her? Did it matter? When the potion wore off, Lily would leave, so perhaps she should enjoy this while it lasted.
Merope opened her mouth to Lily's ministrations. Their tongues danced; their hands fumbled feverishly with each other's clothes. Lily was rubbing a finger over Merope's clit before she could push her away.
She didn't push her away. Soon enough, Lily's tongue replaced her hand, and Merope shuddered in ecstasy. Sex with Tom was never quite like this... Merope moaned Lily's name. "That's it, darling, come for me," Lily encouraged, two fingers inside her, and oh, it was beyond anything...
They lay facing each other on the sofa, both panting in the afterglow. "That was amazing," Lily whispered fervently. "You are amazing, darling."
"No," Merope said brokenly. "No, this isn't what I wanted." But it was. Lily was everything she wanted.
"Did I do something wrong?" Lily asked, sounding concerned.
"No, it's not you. I—" Merope pushed herself off the sofa and staggered into the kitchen, finding the miniscule amount of antidote she'd brewed before Tom left her nestled behind the tea. Grasping it, she poured it into a new mug and added the remaining contents of the tepid teapot. "D-drink this," she pleaded, hurrying back to the sofa and holding the cup out to Lily. It shook in her hand.
Confused, Lily took the cup and drank it down in a couple gulps. "Cold tea is disgusting," she said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
Merope waited for the antidote to take effect, her breath coming in short gasps, her stomach roiling with guilt and self-loathing. One moment of perfect bliss was not worth losing Lily forever. But the die had been cast.
Lily's expression shifted. She blinked several times, as if trying to clear her vision. A hand ran through her hair. "How did I get from the table to here?" she asked. "And where is my underwear?"
"I— We—" Merlin, what should she say? "I gave you love potion, and then we had sex," Merope said, avoiding Lily's accusing eyes. "I'm sorry. I—"
"You did what!" Lily yelled. "You fucking raped me!"
"Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Merope babbled, not knowing what else to do.
Lily grabbed Merope's shoulders and pushed her back into the sofa, glaring dangerously. "I came back to save you. I don't think you were ever worth saving."
"But why?" Merope whispered. "Why did you ever want to save me?"
Lily removed her hands and sat heavily beside her, breathing deeply. "It wasn't entirely because of you. I wanted your son to have a mother."
"But how did you know I needed help?"
Lily waited patiently for Merope to come up with an answer.
"You're from the future," Merope guessed. "But how?"
"I died, and was given a choice. I chose to come here."
"I still don't understand why."
"Because your baby killed my husband and was preparing to kill my son," Lily began.
"Oh, my child grows up to kill you, doesn't he?" Merope interrupted, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
"He does."
Merope wanted to embrace Lily, to hold her and promise that everything would be okay. But she had no right, not after what she'd just done. Instead, she settled with asking, "What else will he grow up to do?"
"Let's see," Lily mused. "He tried to fix problems he saw in the world, but in the attempt nearly destroyed it. He was a blood purist Dark Lord with boundless ambition, who cared for nothing but his own genocidal vision."
Merope knew she should be horrified by the mention of genocide, but the first question to come to mind was: "Why would he be a blood purist? His blood isn't pure."
Lily sighed. "It's... I can't tell you, mostly because I don't really know myself."
"But you were never here for me, were you?" Merope said, sadly. No one ever would be.
"I— I wanted to be. Well, mostly I just wanted to go on to the afterlife, but I couldn't let something I might have been able to change pass by. I'd do anything to save my child."
"So would I," Merope agreed, laying her hand against the bulge of her stomach, where the baby was curled up peaceably—for the moment, anyway.
"I can't stay here," Lily said, after the two of them sat in comfortable silence for some minutes.
"I know." The tears began to fall in earnest, and Merope clumsily dabbed at them with her sleeve.
"You didn't need to use the potion on me, Merope," Lily said quietly. "I was beginning to love you without it. Now—" She turned away. She picked up her bag and swiftly left the room, her hair swinging forward to cover her face. Merope heard a stack of coins set onto the table in Merope's bedroom, before Lily scurried past her once more and out the front door.
Two weeks passed. Lily did not return, not that Merope expected her to. But she still hoped. Every time one of her neighbors slammed a door or shouted something unintelligible, she went to the window to see if maybe— She hoped hardest when the long winter nights left her desolate and when the morning sickness returned with a vengeance and she couldn't keep more than tea and biscuits down.
New Year's Eve was cold—or rather, colder than the days leading up to it. Merope sat vigil by the window, her hands around a steaming cup of tea, watching as snow obscured everything outside into inscrutable whiteness. As the day progressed, the weather got worse. The snow fell more thickly still, muting ambient outdoor sounds. It was mid-afternoon when the labor pains began.
*
Merope could fend for herself, Lily thought. (She remained unconvinced.) Merope was a terrible person who deserved no one's help. (She still wasn't convinced.) Merope was unscrupulous and manipulative, and would only make the world worse if she lived. (Nope. Still not convinced.)
"Is everything all right, dear?" Enid asked in concern from across the scrubbed wooden table, as Lily dropped her fork.
Lily came here on a whim, despite, or perhaps because of the fact this woman had thrown Merope out. It had been a peaceful two weeks, with Lily working days at the bakery, then returning home to Enid's kindness and warmth. There were no snakes out in this cold to be caught conversing with, and Lily had no for magic anymore, not when it could be used for... what Merope had used it for.
"I abandoned a friend," Lily said into her food.
"Oh?" Enid frowned in concern. "Did you have a good reason for doing so?"
"She did something awful to me, but I know why she did it."
"That does not make whatever she did better," Enid said flatly.
"Yes, but she doesn't have anyone else, and she needs help. She could die..."
Enid looked troubled. "If what she did was unforgivable, then she does not deserve your help. Anyway, eat up. You haven't been looking well at all."
"I'm not hungry," Lily said apologetically, pushing her plate away and getting to her feet. "I need to go out."
"In this weather? Are you sure?"
"I have to find her, before it's too late." Lily put on her coat. "Do you know the address of a Wool's Orphanage? I think that might be where she's headed."
"I believe I do," Enid said, pushing her own chair back and striding over to a paper-filled hutch. "Yes, here we are." She copied the address onto a scrap of paper and handed it to Lily.
"Thank you, Enid, for everything," Lily said, opening the door.
"My pleasure, dear," Enid said, smiling. "I do hope you find your friend, even if she shouldn't be found."
*
Merope stumbled up the steps of the Muggle orphanage she'd seen a time or two on an afternoon walk, desperately banging on the door before she collapsed, her stomach rippling powerfully with contractions. The door was opened after what seemed like an age by a dark-haired young woman, whose expression morphed from curiosity to panic as she comprehended what lay upon the stoop.
"Martha!" she called, leaning down to lift Merope into a sitting position, "I need some help. This woman's about to deliver."
Two other women—a doctor and a midwife, Merope guessed—came to the door, throwing Merope's arms over their shoulders and guiding her across the hall. They lay her on a hard bed, with the female doctor on one side and a midwife on the other, the pinched-face matron who had answered the door hovering anxiously in the background.
"Breathe deeply, dear," the midwife cajoled. "And push"—Merope screamed—"and push some more—"
But something was wrong. Merope couldn't keep pushing. She was so tired... The white cotton sheets were steadily turning red with her blood. "I can't," she whimpered. "Please..."
"We're almost there, sweetheart," the midwife said. "Look, there's the head!"
Why should that matter? But she tried anyway, as the midwife and the doctor kept begging her.
"Her hips are too narrow," the doctor snapped. "I'm not sure she'll survive this."
If exhaustion and death were standing near the two women, stretching their arms out to her, then she would fall into them, and never surface. But once more... for the baby. Then she could rest... Lily would be free of her forever.
"That's it, sweetheart! You've done it! Look!" And the midwife gestured excitedly at a strange, red, wrinkled thing cradled in the doctor's hands. The thing started to squirm, letting out a lusty cry that even in her painful lethargy managed to shock her briefly into full wakefulness. Merope leaned forward to get a better look.
The baby's features resolved themselves into exactly how she imagined Tom must have looked when he was born. "Name him Tom, for his father," she said, "And Marvolo, for mine."
"And the last name?" the doctor asked, glaring at the matron until she left to retrieve a pen and paper.
"Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Merope fell back against the pillows, sapped of the last of her strength, Tom cradled against her chest, who was attempting to latch on to her breast. Rest at last, she thought, as he finally succeeded and began to suckle. But the door to the bedroom burst open with a loud bang. An apparition with gleaming red hair and hot, blazing eyes sped toward her. "Lily," Merope croaked.
"Live!" Lily said, setting Tom aside and grasping Merope's hands. "Live!" She then leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth.
The midwife, the matron—who had returned from her errand appearing quite peeved, and the doctor exchanged looks. The doctor was the first to speak. "She won't die on my watch, no matter if she and this woman are cohabiting more closely than is natural."
The shock of Lily's kiss was enough to rouse Merope entirely. "Lily!" she cried. "You came back!" She pulled Lily into the tightest embrace she could in her weakened state, returning the kiss desperately. "Please don't leave again."
"No," Lily replied, gently pulling away and replacing Tom in her arms. "I won't, love. I'll always be here for you."
Merope wept as Tom—her precious, darling child—latched on to her breast once more. Lily sat in the chair closest to the bed, her right hand resting softly on Merope's shoulder, reaffirming her wondrous, living, vital presence. Whatever the future held, Merope knew, this moment was a beginning she had long assumed was out of reach. And unknowable and dark as the
future may be, she thought, it's mere possibility was embodied in Lily—love for whom dwarfed what Merope felt for her erstwhile husband—and Tom Marvolo—who, she hoped, would redeem the names of those men who had betrayed her.
"Sleep now," Lily murmured, brushing her lips against Merope's sweaty forehead. "I will be here when you wake, and then we can go home."
Home. Yes, home, with Lily and Tom. And if for no one else, she would live for them.